The Capital of the Silver Rush
They say the town of Kutná Hora in Bohemia was born by chance. It was a small and obscure settlement. Among its attractions, there was just one monastery. But one day a certain monk Anthony, dozing peacefully in the hot midday in the thickets of the monastery vineyard, had a wondrous dream. It seemed that three rods had grown by his head, not ordinary ones but silver ones. Upon waking, the prudent monk marked the interesting spot with his own cassock and reported the dream 'through channels' to the father superior. The latter, having leafed through the dream book, ordered that the sign of God be examined. Thus the famous deposits of Kutná Hora silver were discovered. And, as the chronicles relate, 'in the year 1290 there was a great gathering of people in Kutná' – the silver rush began.
The newly arrived poor dug dugouts. The lucky miners who had already saved some money built solid houses. Merchants and landowners erected mansions. Initially, construction was chaotic: between residential houses and shops, workshops smoked and mines operated.
Around 1300, during the reign of King Wenceslas II, the Royal Mining Law was issued – a body of laws according to which the king freely disposed of silver deposits on any plot, gave permission for the extraction and processing of ore. By the end of the 13th century, Kutná Hora was producing about a third of Europe's silver. A little later, at the central mint here, by order of the same enterprising king, they began minting a single Czech coin – the Prague groschen. Thanks to its wealth, Kutná Hora became the second most important city of the Kingdom of Bohemia.
But nothing under the moon is eternal. Kutná Hora gets drawn into political feuds during the Hussite Wars. As a result, the city blazes in the glow of fires twice: first it is set on fire by the retreating King Sigismund, then by the troops of Jan Žižka. Many mines were flooded and filled in – in retaliation for the fact that the royal troops had thrown more than two thousand Hussites into them. It was possible to restore the extraction of silver ore only thanks to new deposits. But the years pass, the mines are exhausted, the silver veins go deeper, while German and American silver enter the market. The mint closes, and gradually Kutná Hora becomes an ordinary provincial town.
A Fashionable Attire for a Provincial Town
Like any provincial but wealthy town, Kutná Hora tried in every way to catch up and surpass the capital. For example, they went and built their own... Charles Bridge. And no matter that it was not across a river (well, there was no river!), but in beauty and majesty of statues it is not inferior to its counterpart in the capital. Specifically in order to make the stay of high guests in Kutná Hora pleasant and convenient, a royal residence was built – the Vlašský Dvůr. In the middle of the inner courtyard in the Italian style there is an essential marble fountain, the water for which was brought in barrels from a neighboring village.
And what about, for example, the fact that the houses of wealthy townspeople had central heating? In the 13th century! On the central square rises a municipal water reservoir of indescribable beauty – tourists and newlyweds take photos at its walls today. And around it are crowded motley and amusing noble houses. Gaudily decorated with stucco and wrought-iron lattices, they seem a living illustration from ancient fairy tales. And the most fairy-tale of all is rightfully considered the world's first Museum of Alchemy – a moss-covered building with no less ancient and original furnishings: flasks, encrypted manuscripts, pouches of herbs, dried toad legs and other raw materials that are extremely necessary in the scientific endeavor of obtaining the philosopher's stone.
But, of course, the palm of primacy in beauty and inventiveness belongs to the famous 'medieval long-term construction' – the Church of St. Barbara, the patroness of miners. Why would this learned saint (her image is always traditionally accompanied by a book) be responsible for the fates of grimy proletarians? It is unknown, but it is she who is considered the patroness of blacksmiths, coiners, and other people of hard labor.
They built the church for no less than five hundred years. Apparently, the fact that it was erected with the money of miners and with negligible participation of the rich had an effect. But the result is impressive. Gothic churches are generally amazing: spacious but cozy, austere but spiritual, beautiful but not cloying.
The first designer of the church was Jan Parléř, the son of Peter Parléř, the creator of St. Vitus Cathedral in Prague. According to the plan, the Kutná Hora church was to surpass the capital's architectural masterpiece. The oldest part with a wreath of chapels with galleries resembles the layout of French cathedrals. Later, the construction of the cathedral was directed by completely different architects, so the Church of St. Barbara incorporated the ideas of many people who lived in different eras. As a result, modern Czech architects received a visual aid on the development of Gothic architecture in Bohemia.
The painting that adorns the walls of the church amazes with the realism of the depicted scenes: one can feel the close connection of the artists with the miners. For example, in the Hašplířská chapel, the theme of the painting is work at a winch, and in the Bezmenna chapel, the medieval technique of minting coins is depicted. An honorable place in the church is occupied by the figure of a kneeling miner: in a white linen garment (this was explained simply - in the darkness of the mines, white figures were more visible), with a pick and a lantern, the underground worker froze in prayer.
Mining silver ore was a hard and dangerous affair. In olden times, miners were short (about 1 m 60 cm) and skinny: it was inconvenient for others to chip away at rock with a pickaxe in narrow shafts. Despite this, among pragmatic Czech young ladies they were considered enviable suitors: firstly, they earned well, secondly, they were rarely at home. “Silver” miners with a supply of provisions were lowered into the shaft for a whole week, and only on Sunday did they come out into the light of day and go to God's service. What did they ask of Saint Barbara? Who knows...
Today every tourist can walk their path, donning a canvas robe and arming themselves with a flashlight powered by Energizer batteries. Walk - and nothing more. Each of us has our own toil.
Beauty and philosophy on bones
The Czechs have always been good at somewhat cynical humor. And let today's aesthetes grimace as much as they like at the “drunkard-communist” Hasek and his “vulgar soldier,” no one has captured the very essence of the Czech character better than Schweik. It is unlikely that in any other country they would have disposed of... bones from a local cemetery so thriftily. Yes, yes, we are talking about the famous Sedlec Chapel - the so-called ossuary in Kutna Hora.
A cemetery spreads around the chapel, and inside the chapel itself are works of art made from human bones. According to legend, in the 13th century, the abbot of Sedlec Monastery, Heidenreich, after a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, brought a handful of earth from Christ's grave and scattered it over the cemetery. Thus, the cemetery soil became part of the Holy Land, and therefore noble deceased began to be buried there. The monastery was burned down during the Hussite Wars, and a chapel was built on its site. And the bones from the cleared graves were stacked into pyramids by a half-blind monk in 1511.
In the 18th century, the ossuary was bought by the enterprising Schwarzenberg family and rebuilt into a work of religious-architectural art. The then-famous woodcarver František Rint from the town of Česká Skalice decorated the chapel's interior, also using cemetery bones in the decoration. Guides assure that all bones were disinfected and bleached with chloride of lime before use. According to estimates, the remains of 40,000 people are gathered in the decoration of the Sedlec ossuary. At first, when you enter the chapel, it's a bit eerie. Then you begin to realize that these are the remains of people who lived in the 13th-14th centuries, and, frankly, it's beautiful and not scary. But when the process of understanding ends, it will still be eerie.
I felt better when I read in a guidebook that “this work should not be understood as an end in itself. For many decades it has reminded visitors of the transience of human life and the immutable fact of death. It is this circumstance that should lead people to harmonious coexistence, to respect life and to realize their responsibility before God.” Maybe it really will help?
In any case, even before master František Rint began laying out intricate ornaments from the bones of our ancestors, wise heads in the city council were working on the world's first charter for “servants of the people.” All the then “deputies” - respected members of the magistrate elected by the city's residents - gave such a solemn promise. Remember its words: “Whoever you are, entering here to perform your duties, leave before these doors all your passions - anger, violence, hostility, friendship, flattery; subordinate your personal concerns to the public cause. For to the extent that you render justice or injustice to others, to the same extent will it be rendered to you at God's judgment. In the year of our Lord 1595.”
They say they worked on these words all day and all night, so that all the candles in the hall burned out. In memory of that, a candlestick with melted candles stands in the old town hall. And these words today greet everyone who enters the building of the United Nations.
The connection of centuries is unbreakable - what our forefathers created is alive to this day. In the Czech Republic, a small country with roots reaching into the depths of centuries, you are convinced of this every day.